Or, it could have been that my label came about because the only form of rebellion in which I’ve ever dabbled was violating my high-school uniform.

I never intended to falsely lead on anyone. Does the fact that I value substance over sex make me a tease? Or, does the concept that I’d like to hang out with a guy outside of his bedroom constitute teasing? I do know that the fact that I’ve chosen not to partake in the hook-up culture certainly does not justify my classification.

I don’t go out with the intention to hook up; I go to hang out with my friends and make new ones. At the risk of sounding cliché, I go out to make memories and to have stories about which I’ll continue to laugh for years to come. I go out for the college experience.

Thus, I’ve come to the conclusion that I am not a tease, and the guys who call me one are just tools.

Consider this: Does the guy who approaches you at the party — ready to handshake your ass, like it doubles as a hand — really want to to get to know you? Did he really admire the way your eyes glimmered in the black light, or did he like the way your chest glowed in that white tank? This is not a rhetorical question.

I won't hold a guy’s player mentality against him, but I still don't have to like or respect him. College guys often adopt personas of being players, as their social circles admire and encourage it. But, this reality does not mean that I must physically submit to his beer-drenched charm and accompanying six-pack.

I actually like becoming friends with these guys, instead of hooking up with them.

I’d rather avoid the infamous I-know-you looks in campus quads, the obligatory gaps in communication post-drunk-hookup and the awkward trips to collect your forgotten belongings on his nightstand. I’d rather dance until the beat drops, talk about the time he went skydiving and make fun of his drunk frat brothers.

Admittedly, it is much more meaningful to me for a guy to be able to tell his friend one thing about me, as a person, instead of “oh yeah, I hooked up with her once.”

I’d also like to know something about these guys besides whether they sport boxers or briefs. (Granted, any respectable girl would not be hooking up with a guy who wears the latter.) I’d rather have an encounter of substance over sex and prefer sharing a laugh to sharing saliva.

Plus, I secretly like the fact that I don’t need an extra set of hands to count my first semester hookups.

Unless you don’t leave the stale, claustrophobic realms of your dorm room, you’ve probably heard of the statement, “Don’t hate the player, hate the game.” I don’t believe in this statement. The truth is, I like the game. It allows for compelling stories that we will retell for years.

It gives us the mistakes from which we will learn and the triumphs we will cherish. It creates the obstacles we need to overcome. The game provides us with the experiences we need in order to grow up. Plus, who doesn’t enjoy watching the hot guy in a button-down do a keg stand?

After a long week of classes, these players and the game itself keep life interesting and fun. Players tend to have a great sense of humor, unbelievably reckless stories, and deep down, they usually have the makings for a solid heart. So, I like the game, but I don't succumb to it.

Maintaining friendships with guys has allowed me to hear the best college stories. I now know all of the details of my best friend hooking up with his pledge master’s HOT sister (proud of you, kid). I know the story of how my hyper-fratty friend spent his 8th birthday.

If I had solely been a drunken hookup, I wouldn’t know about many of my guy friends’ biggest fears, wildest adventures or absurd business ventures. Similarly, my friends wouldn’t have known about mine.

Don’t fall for the player, but still enjoy the game because in this hookup-crazed culture, playing is often the only choice we have.